


Dream SMP prompts

by Ghostbursoot



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom
Genre: 2020 L'Manberg Election on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Amnesia, Angst, Arson, Blood, Death, Explosions, Family Issues, Fighting, Fire, Hallucinations, Insanity, Lava - Freeform, Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP Spoilers (Video Blogging RPF), Manipulation, Murder, Post-Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Trauma, breakdowns, injuries, none of my prompts are wholesome they are all pain
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:35:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 11,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29386380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostbursoot/pseuds/Ghostbursoot
Summary: Some short prompts and concepts of storylines that could have happened on the dream smp
Comments: 3
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was a request from someone on twitter and was also one of my first ever prompts when joining the dsmp fandom. 
> 
> “Tommy tries to stop Wilbur from pressing the button”

He couldn't do it. He just couldn't stand by obedient anymore.

This wasn't right.

Wilbur was already long gone. He was preparing for his grand show - searching for the button that would start an age of anarchy and bloodshed. Before he had left, however, he had told Tommy tow wait on top of the building closest to the podium. Part of him felt as if Wilbur had told him that in order to keep an eye on Tubbo, make sure he was safe. But the more practical, realistic part of Tommy knew it was to keep him away from deterring the demise of Manburg.

Speaking of Tubbo, the other was warming the hearts of the nation with an uplifting speech. It invited hope and the crowd watching seemed to be at peace.

For the first time in a long while, jaded glasses had been removed and Tommy saw a united and happy nation.

The speech was halfway through and something ignited in him. A hope. An attachment long forgotten. A tether to happier times. 

He couldn't let the future happy memories of the people of Manburg be destroyed.

And so with a shot of adrenaline and determination dancing on his mind, Tommy ripped his feet rooted with compliance from the ground, descending down the haphazard makeshift stairs that were created to get them to the top in the first place. After the stairs were out the way, he broke into a desperate sprint to the back of the White House. That's where he saw Wilbur disappear to last.

Anxiety filled his veins, his heart hammering inside his ribcage as he occasionally slipped on the grass once or twice. 

There it was, the entrance to the secret room. Tommy had no idea it was there all along. The location of the button had been concealed from all of them. One could take it as an indicator of paranoia whilst others could take it as a threat to maintain control. He had no time to theorise on the motivations of his ally - or, more accurately, a former ally.

His ears felt warm as blood swelled in them. He could hear his feet echo against the stone floor as he ran through the corridor. The closer he got to a blur of warm light, the more he heard. He could hear Wilbur pacing around, muttering to himself. He could faintly hear muffled words from Tubbo. He could hear cheers of people. The scariest thing, the noise that his brain seemed tracked on was the light hissing of TNT as if it was practically begging to be let off. 

He couldn't let it happen.

“Tommy? Wha- I told you to stay watching the podium!" There was an irritated look on Wilbur's face. It seemed that he wanted Tommy to answer him with a reason, but they both knew why he had broken away from his post. Maybe the vocalisation was meant to make him feel like a fool. Maybe it was another tactic for manipulation.

"Wilbur, this is wrong. Everyone up there is happy! This won't solve anything!" He called out, fists clenched and body language stiff with tension. Wilbur remained relaxed, sliding a hand into his pocket as he pulled out a button. His tired face curled into a cruel smile.   
"You sound like you know what's going to happen."  
"Well no I don't but-"

"Tommy, I know you're trying to challenge me. But please listen just listen for a second. You can go against me all you want. But we both know without me you have nothing. You are nothing."

The words cut like a knife.

When?

When did he get so cold?

When did he discard caring?

"Tommy, this must be done. L'manburg is either mine or it belongs to no one. And if you came here to try and change my mind, just know that your words mean nothing. You have no power. The power you did have came from me".  
"When did this become about power?!" Tommy yelled,clenching his fists in frustration. Why was everything that Wilbur said always confusing yet derogatory?  
"And this is why you won't make a good president!" Wilbur looked gleeful, as if he had just been proved right in a long, exasperating debate "You're too emotional, Tommy. Your emotions get in the way of you understanding anything. It's always been about fucking power, this place is corrupt." The end of his sentence seemed to twist into bitterness, as if he was reminded of a deep circulating hatred in his heart. And with that notion, he slammed the button into place. Tommy felt his insides go numb. This call was getting too close for comfort. He only had one shot at stopping this and he had to tread carefully. Above, he could hear that Tubbo's speech was drawing to an end. Everything, even time itself, felt stacked against him.

"I never said I wanted to be President!" He exclaimed.  
"Oh but you do" Wilbur quickly shot back with a sharp snarl, "That's all everyone wants. If you Kill Schlatt, you'll be treated as a President. Albeit, unfair and illegitimate, but a president Tommy. You'd run that nation into the fucking ground, Tommy. But you're too blinded by your emotions to see that. Don't you see? I'm preventing history from repeating itself. I'm breaking the cycle. I'm creating a power vacuum in which no one is guaranteed any form of power! They can all just squabble over ashes!"

There was a silence.

The words were so weighted, so venomous, that he had no idea how to respond. 

Wilbur was long gone.

The other took Tommy's silence as a sign of defeat and he turned to face the button, Tommy's mind floundering for something to say.  
"Wilbur-"

"Tommy just do me a favour and leave. It's an order, unless you want to explode along with Manburg".

He could only stand, powerless.


	2. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Wilbur sets up the button”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was another one of my very first prompts. All I will say is, for those more interested, I've done a lot of analysis on Dsmp!Wilbur and my viewpoint on him as well as writing style on him has changed a lot since then.

It was time.

All the pain he had endured, all the anguish he had absorbed, all the betrayal he had suffered through, would finally pay off in a brilliant display of fire.

Fire, ash, destruction.

He could only smile to himself as he imagined the sight, the mere idea bringing a crackle of warmth and joy to his worn heart. Fire reaching up to a vermilion, looming sky. Buildings crying with chaos as they crumbled. People scrambling about to escape with just about their lives and, if they could, some fragment of power.

Because that's what it always was about wasn't it?

Power.

Disgusting.

Wilbur grimaced, closing off the entrance to his secret room. The last semblance of the cold evening breeze drifted past him before being swallowed by the stuffy, warm air of the stone room. Although it didn't stop him from shivering. And it certainly didn't stop him feeling numb with the cold.

In his steady hand was a wooden button. It was fairly flimsy, the result of a hurried burst of insanity, but it was smooth and fit just right in his hand. It was like it was meant to be. Manburg was meant to be destroyed.

One way or another.

He walked into the room, glancing appreciatively at his work. Tnt cradled the walls threateningly, whispering only desires of death. In the middle of the room was a chair, right underneath where the podium was. It was the perfect seat and it would hold the perfect view. He would be able to have the last laugh, sitting there watching the explosions fire off around him as those above would panic over this unexpected attack that their mighty leader had no control over.

Wilbur had brought some other things with him, not just the fateful button. A few signs and a pen. He slumped into the chair, its surface prickly with it's cold temperature, and he leaned forwards, resting the sign over his knee as he started writing. 

A familiar tune filled his head and he smiled yet again. It was filled with warmth, yet the warmth seemed cold as if the merry fondness of the memory once associated with the song no longer mattered. 

Once that ordeal was done, he carefully placed each of the signs on the wall. This process was important and had to be treated with the utmost care. It was a reminder to him of what he had lost, what he deserved and what was truly his. It was his. All of it. If he couldn't have it, no one could. And so thus he would remove the corruption within it in one fail swoop. In one grandeur display.

He stepped back to admire, once again, his work. It would be a pleasant spectacle indeed. 

His hand brushed against the button in his pocket and he pulled it out, staring at it with the same type of fondness that a father might look at a son. 

And with some amount of trepidation, he placed it on the wall.

"My L'manburg"


	3. Kindling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘What if Wilbur changed his mind at the last minute and chose to not blow up Manburg?”

He sat quietly outside the base of Pogtopia, back against the dirt wall as he had his knees pulled to his chest and arms resting on top of them. The day was cold, a sharp wind hissing and biting at anything stuck in its grasp. It disrupted the silence of the surroundings, causing the nearby oak trees to whimper a shaky symphony and lose their summer coats. It was like watching dying fireworks. 

He was tired, all motivation within him to do something had been lost. He had lost his land, lost his people and was now no longer trusted by those he had considered allies. Their trepidation around him made him feel numb and heavy. It made him feel cold. 

Footsteps crunched on the crisp, dew ridden grass. It was probably Tommy or Tubbo, coming back from committing small acts of rebellion within Manburg. They would leave him be, and so thus he didn't open his cold and tired eyes to greet them. 

"Wilbur". 

The voice was certainly not Tubbo or Tommy. It didn't contain the determination and igniting joy both of their tones had woven in. He didn't shift, bones too rigid to move but his weighted eyes rose open and his irises looked upwards. Yes the voice was familiar indeed, it was filled with spiky cold yet resigned warmth too. It belonged to a man who had control to pull the plug from this cursed and divided place, but had instead stayed compliant in the background.

Wilbur did not greet him, instead raising his weary head with an exhausted yet bitter expression.  
"Why did you give me the tnt?"  
"Why didn't you do it?"

Wilbur sighed at the rebuttal, laying his head back down on his knees and closing his eyes.  
"I'm tired"

The grass crunched in front of him as the figure sat down, adjusting his mask and setting his sword down.’  
"I know".


	4. Fateful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘What if Wilbur had never set up the TNT?’

The air in the room felt like syrup. Sickening, suffocating and thick with tension. The room was dim, merely lit by a few torches that perched attentively on the wall - although, with the urgency of the current scenario, they might as well have all been in the dark. 

Tommy stood by the entrance to the secret room, breathing silent and delayed as if any form of movement would cause destruction and annihilation. Nikki was beside him, hand over her mouth to try and contain her fear and shock. This was the first time she had been inside the secret room and nothing in her worst nightmares could have prepared her for this sight. 

Quackity was the closest to Wilbur. He had his hand reaching out. Whether to stop or console Wilbur wasn't clear but either action would've been appropriate. Then there was Wilbur himself.

He was beside the button, it glinting in the candle light as if it was winking with temptation. His hand was hovering over it, albeit containing tremors of an unknown source. The man refused to face the rest of the group. He was didn't want to look at their faces and be deterred from what had to be done. Manburg HAD to be destroyed. Anarchy HAD to rain down upon them all. The concept of power HAD to be jeopardised. All of his planning and preparation couldn't be for nothing, like last time.

"I'm going to blow this place to fucking smithereens" he uttered with a breathless chuckle, eyes wide with kindling and insanity. 

"Wilbur!"  
"No!"  
"Don't do it!"

Click

The button was pressed down whilst life and hope drained from the faces of those within the room. Wilbur didn't move, hand only moving from the button as his eyes cast a glance upon the signs carefully hung on the wall. Quackity took a few steps back whilst Tommy and Nikki were both frozen out of horror. 

Their previous leader started humming a tune they all knew well enough as they watched, too afraid to move to the exit and see the destruction that would start outside despite the dangers of remaining in the room. 

But then Wilbur stopped humming.

No sounds of TNT exploded in the distance, no chunks of land had gone flying anywhere. In fact the secret room and all of them were still alive, intact yet fearful. 

Wilbur's eyes darted to the button as his mouth curled up into an expression of annoyance. Without hesitation, he slammed his hand on the button yet again.

But nothing happened.

"There's no.... Explosions?" Nikki asked, looking to Tommy. He looked to her, conveying the same confusion.

"Wilbur? Did you even rig any TNT?" He then asked, turning to face the man in question. His look of fear had changed to one of seriousness and his body language no longer spelled afraid.

Wilbur, however, started to shake. 

He still didn't turn to acknowledge or face any of them as if their words of confusion and concern didn't matter, only the button. Only blowing up Manburg.

With desperation and tears welling up in his eyes, he started pressing the button rapidly, more furiously, as if there had been some malfunction or if pressing it enough times would finally set the expected schedule of anarchy and destruction off.

But no matter how many times he hit that button as his hands and body trembled whilst tears cascaded down his face, nothing happened. 

"No, no no no, I rigged it. I rigged it. I rigged it" he muttered.

They could all only watch as he started to let out stifled, quiet sobs that were occasionally interrupted by the frequent clicks of the button slipping into place.

Once a mighty leader fell to his knees on the cold, stone floor, crying with desperation for his plan to succeed.

"I have to, I have to, I can't fail L'manburg again, I can't".

His head hung low as his tears created new sounds of water, of anguish, hitting the ground.

His hand remained pressed hopelessly on the button.


	5. Rendezvous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘Tommy makes a deal and becomes a traitor’

The blanket of evening hid him perfectly as he moved towards Manburg, the glittering stars and pearly, crescent moon being his only guide through the thick and lunar forest. It was peaceful, the leaves rustling comfortingly to sing alongside the trickling of water from nearby streams.

Yet, despite the tranquility of an evening that turned a blind eye to what actions he was about to commit, Tommy's mind was far from peaceful. It was a blurred mess, filled with questions and worries. Thoughts and dreads.

He had to do this.

But this would cement him and his fate forever. There was no turning back from blackening his heart and dirtying his hands.

Taking a deep breath, he clenched his fists and stood on top of a hill overlooking Manburg. The nation was brightly lit and empty after the events of Quackity's failed contract. It was hard to think that it might all change so soon, depending on how the tides turned. 

Schlatt was within Manburg, albeit preoccupied with self gloating and an ego. His neglect to the people of Manburg was enough to make someone loathe him and enough to make Tommy recoil at himself for what he was about to do.

But this was for the best. 

He started to head down to the podium, the fateful podium where their exile and the rebellion had first been birthed. It always seemed that something important was happening there - albeit the scenarios were always bad.

Hopefully, now, that would change.

He was glad that there were no prying eyes here. Schlatt was defenceless and thus no one could descend upon Tommy with a shower of arrows. And no one from Pogtopia was around, saving him from judgement and future suspicion. Now he understood why Wilbur never wanted him around when threatening to destroy Manburg, other people often acted as a deterrent from carrying out what had to be done.

Ascending up the stairs was nerve-racking. He swallowed down a feeling of tremors whilst calming the heart thumping at his ribcage. 

Schlatt was lounging at the top on his throne, the same throne where Tubbo was murdered, smirking appreciatively at his nation. It was enough arrogance and ignorance to cause Tommy to clench his jaw and biting the inside of his lip to keep any response fueled by anger exploding out. 

Red eyes glided to him, looking amused.   
"Tommyinnit. I thought I told you that you were banished from MY nation." Tommy glared at him straight in the eyes, trying to hold an aura of power and intimidation. It didn't do much as Schlatt remained relaxed and smug.  
"I want to reclaim back Manburg" he started calmly.  
"And have you come here to fucking grovel for it? The fuck do you take me for?" Schlatt tilted his head, leaning it against his hand.  
"Pogtopia is prepared to fight for it." Tommy answered back definitely, earning a scoff.

"So you've not only gone against my exile but you decide to come here to do what? Start a war on your own? You've not only fucking insulted me but you're gonna piss me off." His free hand moved to the side of his seat, Tommy glancing briefly and seeing the glint of a netherite sword. He had to stay focused and he had to make sure he didn't die.  
"If we start a war, it will be a loss. It's a 50/50 chance we win. And even if we win, Wilbur's lost his mind and the blade is all for anarchy".  
"So?"  
"I can't let the people of Pogtopia or Manburg suffer more".

Schlatt's smile returned once again along with its smug complexion. God, Tommy could just punch him right now. Couldn't he just kill him now? Get it over with?

No. The chaos that Wilbur and Techno wanted would begin. The very thing he wanted to try and oppose.  
"Schlatt, I'm gonna be honest with you here. I don't like you. I'll never forgive you for what you did to Tubbo, ever. And just because i'll ask this, doesn't mean I agree with you or like you".

"Stop waffling and get on with it, I'm getting bored".  
"I want to strike a deal"

He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. Schlatt on the other hand seemed to brighten up with interest and possible enjoyment. It was hard to tell with the cruel joy in his eyes.

"Oh? What kind of deal?"  
"You make me President of Manburg. I'll run the place for you when you aren't around, keep people happy. Prevent war and prevent Wilbur from going crazy. No one gets hurt and these wars get put to a rest. You'll still remain in total power and control and everything I do has to run through you beforehand."  
"So far that benefits you. What's in it for me?"

"Well you'd still remain in full power and control without having to do any work. Rebellions will be stopped easier. I'll tell you the plans of pogtopia".

There was a brief moment of silence as the older seemed to ponder on it.

"Alright, deal" He stood up, holding out his hand for Tommy to shake. And he did so. And it felt so fundamentally wrong.

"One last condition" Tommy requested.  
"Shoot"  
"Tubbo doesn't get hurt again".

Schlatt grinned, chuckling softly. His hand gripped Tommy's tighter in a more threatening sense. He could feel his heart beat hammering again.

"As long as you don't give me reason to. Don't take me for a fucking fool and we'll get along fine."

His hand was let go and he was free to leave, although probably never free from the torment of his decision. Either way, he started to dart down the stairs.

"oh, and Tommy?"

He gulped and looked up to the podium, Schlatt staring menacingly. When did he suddenly gain so much power? 

"Dream will be working alongside you. Don't let me down"

"Yes Schlatt"

Once out of sight, he ran, nothing but guilt and burden on his shoulders.


	6. Anarchy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘Techno likes potato farming because it reminds him of anarchy and he imparts vague wisdom to Tubbo’

Walking into the potato farm within Pogtopia was always a relaxing feeling, like closing the door after a long and tiring bout of social interaction. The calm after the storm.

Something about the methodic and repetitive reaping and sowing was grounding, calming and helped to put his mind at ease after a long and hard day. It was also beneficial, so it wasn't as if his free time was going to any waste.

"Technoblade? You in here?"

He cringed at the noise.

Teaming with Wilbur had been a great decision. The leader of Pogtopia had some power over his allies and was extremely smart and capable. Furthermore, he had connections with Dream, the self proclaimed god of the server who had access to all the destructive supplies any anarchist could need. It was a logical match - what with both of them promoting chaos.

Yes, Wilbur was unhinged but that just made the possibilities of chaos and betrayal more interesting, didn't it?

But, unfortunately, not everyone was as sensible and compliant as Wilbur.

Tommy was unbearable. Whilst also compliant, he would still take his time to whine and complain in hope that it would come off as more of a divine hero's persuasion rather than just the cries of an insolent child. Simply to put it, he was annoying and loud. But, on the bright side, he was powerless. Tommy had few allies and those he did have often looked up to Wilbur for direction.

Then there was Tubbo.

Tubbo was ok. Whilst having childish mannerisms much like his best friend, he was calmer and kinder. Of course, kindness got you no where in life but with kindness came responsibility over others. Tubbo was sensible, Tubbo was careful and, when he wanted to, Tubbo could probably cause just as much chaos as Techno soon would. He just needed a bit of growing and a bit of prodding into the right direction. After the events of the festival, it would be easier to persuade him to be anti-government given all it had done for him. Luckily for him, it was Tubbo who had called out and came curiously walking into the farm room, eyes wide with wonder and hands held behind his back.

"Hey, Tommy and I were planning on vandalising Manburg. Want to join us?"  
"I can't, I have farming to do" the older responded back simply. It was true, these potatoes weren't going to farm and cook themselves. And anyway, it wasn't like he wouldn't be missing out on vandalising the nation entirely - not with what he had planned.

Tubbo frowned, titling his head in slight confusion

"What's so special about potato farming anyway? Why do you like it so much?"

It took him a few seconds to formulate an answer. He never really knew himself, wheat was probably the more beneficial answer but there was something so dainty to the process of growing wheat that just put him off of it. He turned to face the younger, sighing before walking over to the wooden chest by the door. With a creak, he heaved open the lid and pulled out an iron hoe, slightly dull from over-use. He then threw it over to Tubbo, who stumbled but managed to catch it. Not looking to see if the other was ok, he got his own diamond hoe out of the chest before closing it with a careless thud.

"You see, Tubbo, Potato farming is kinda like a battle"

The sky was painted red, clouds intermingled and were strangled by tornados of bellowing smoke and ashes. Screams filled the air along with the barking crackle of fire that tore at the surroundings around him. 

"You have to survey around what seems perfect for reaping" Techno walked to the closest ripe morsel ready for taking. There was one by the front, leaves unruly and vibrant with a hint of that familiar dull yellow-beige colour peeping from the ground.

He could not see any sign of life anywhere amongst the sea of flames. The screams were there so people had to be alive. He had one rule, allow one to survive to tell the next village. That way it would be a domino effect, and the chaos and calamity would spread to the next village through fear. Their government leaders would clamour for any form of protection and order to protect them against his oncoming storm. He chuckled, gripping his axe lightly as he followed the sounds of screaming, kicking rubble of someone's memory lane as he strolled on. And there someone was, in the distance, blood slipping down their head as they scrambled in hopes of getting somewhere safe. 

Tubbo walked beside Techno, glancing upon the field of potatoes, scrutinising them before taking his pick and looking expectedly up at the pig.

"Then you want to give the top a sharp tug whilst keeping your foot firmly at the ground at the base. You don't want to get dirt anywhere".

Placing and lighting some more TNT down, he walked to the person in the distance. They saw him coming, their face turned pale even more so than it currently was. They started to run, throwing chunks of rubble down to block his path. Wedging the hilt of his axe against the largest rock of the destruction, he rested one foot against it and heaved before it came undone, flinging itself down into some crater as explosions went off in the background.

Techno did so first, an example to Tubbo who then followed. The younger looked amazed at the simplicity of it all yet the ounce of amusement he was getting out of it and Techno could only give a chuffed smile to himself - small so nobody would notice.

"Now you want to get your hoe and use it to slice the leaves off before then using it to even the ground we just uprooted"

"PLEASE, PLEASE HAVE MERCY". He could hear more explosions that silenced the pleas of the victim in front of him. He tilted his head, not giving them the honour of a response. Raising his axe, it glinted from the light of some hidden sun.

"Blood for the blood god"  
The town went silent.

"Well I get what you mean about it being fun" Tubbo hummed softly, intricately sawing off the leaves whilst the other sliced them off in one fail swoop, "but I don't get what you mean about it being a battle".

He smiled

Calamity and destruction littered around him as he felt the town flatten and cower underneath his feet.

"Ah, maybe it's just that for me".


	7. Exile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘It's the last straw for Tubbo as Tommy sets fire to the courthouse’

"Oh man, did you see that Tubbo? If only they were there haha, the looks on their faces when they come back!" Tommy's laugh echoed throughout the halls of Tubbo's home as the blonde came tumbling in through the door, the smell of kindling and fire dancing around him as the night had given him the energy of the stars. His expression was one of glee as he looked out the open door to see the smoke and the flames leaping into the dark sky and only climbing as it had more building to feed on. He ran a hand through his hair, grinning with a breathless chuckle. Tubbo could only imagine that the act was exhilarating, filling Tommy with an addictive taste of adrenaline. 

The president, however, could only sit at his oak wood table, hands clasped firmly together with frustration and fear whispering their influences on him. The sound of Tommy's manic yet thrilled laughter only seemed to fuel the internal fire of resolution within Tubbo as he closed his eyes and let out a firm sigh.

He had to put his foot down, this could go on for no longer.

"Big T, at this rate I'm going to annoy dream enough that he'll HAVE to give me the disc in order to shut me up."

"Tommy."

"Skeppy better watch his back because I'm coming for those disks."  
"Tommy."  
"You shoulda been there big T! It was just like the old days when it was me and you versus-"  
"TOMMY SHUTUP!"

Silence fell upon the room as the smile from the blonde's face dropped, he looked over to his friend, stepping inside the house and closing the door behind him. He didn't move, however, from his spot. Tubbo moved his hands from the table to by his chin in an act to show his concern. He too, didn't dare meet eyes with the other and merely looked to the grains within the table as if they would be able to convey his feelings of anger for him. This conversation was already hard enough than it should have been.  
"Big T?" There was a softness to Tommy's tone that hadn't been there five seconds ago. He was worried of course, Tubbo never shouted. There had never been any reason to.  
"Tommy, you can't keep doing this."  
"Doing what?" Why did he have to play dumb? Was he that ignorant to his actions?  
"Starting fights with Dream!" Hands slammed on the table as Tubbo stood up, confidence intermingled with ferocity as he glared his friend down. It seemed to intimidate Tommy for a second - the other did a double take, swallowed, and glanced beside him before looking back. 

"You know why I have to do this."  
"Tommy we've been through this already, you don't have to do anything! There can be a peaceful solution to all of this." Tommy's expression changed to one of annoyance and anger, it was as if they were matching shades of emotions.  
"Peaceful? It's Dream! When is anything involved with him ever going to be peaceful Tubbo? And why should I be peaceful with them? They've hurt everyone, they blew up our houses and set fire to our nation! After everything they've done, why should I be peaceful?!"  
"BECAUSE THE DISKS AREN'T THE ONLY THING THAT MATTER ANYMORE TOMMY!"  
"I'VE DONE MY PART FOR L'MANBURG!" Tommy yelled, "I PUT EVERYTHING I WANTED ASIDE FOR L'MANBURG. WHEN DO I GET MY TIME TO FIGHT FOR WHAT I WANT?!"

"THATS THE PROBLEM TOMMY! YOU DON'T BECAUSE WHAT YOU WANT DOESN'T MATTER!"

Silence again, Tommy's anger had deflated to shock. Tubbo was fueled on, taking this moment of silence as his chance to stop Tommy before the other spoke up again.  
"The disks, don't matter! They're disks Tommy. They are OBJECTS. The people of this nation, the people we grow with and laugh with and our memories with them are what matter Tommy!" Despite maintaining a serious tone, a bit of desperation burrowed it's way in. He wasn't just giving Tommy a message, he was pleading with the rational part of him. 

"So my respect doesn't matter to you?"  
"What? Tommy, who said anything about respect?"  
"As long as Dream has those disks, he has power over me Tubbo! HE CAN LOOK DOWN ON ME TUBBO! BUT NOBODY SEES THAT BECAUSE ALL THEY CARE ABOUT IS THIS NATION!"  
"IS THAT ALL YOU CARE ABOUT? NOT BEING LOOKED DOWN UPON BY A TYRANT? IS HIS OPINION REALLY WORTH MORE THAN THE OPINIONS AND THE LIVES OF OTHERS?!"  
"YES!"  
"DOES IT MATTER MORE THAN ME TOMMY?" Tubbo screamed, his face red and tears threatening to spill out of his eyes, "DOES IT MATTER MORE THAN YOUR FRIEND? DO I MATTER TO YOU? OR ARE THE DISKS BETTER?"

That seemed to strike something within Tommy. He floundered on his words, his body language becoming loose and confused. He took some steps forward, towards Tubbo and crossing his arms. He became quiet and vulnerable, looking as if he too was pleading for the argument to end - for them to shake hands and smile as friends again.  
"Tubbo, Tubbo you know I trust you. You are my best friend, and you are more important than any disk, which is why I wanted you to help me take the disks back from Dream! Just like in the good old days!"  
"But we aren't in the good old days Tommy" an accusatory finger was jabbed at the other's chest, Tubbo holding narrowed eyes, "this is the present, we can't just go round doing what we want, when we want."  
"You're starting to become a right bore you know that?" Tommy muttered with a scoff, only exploding more rage in the other.  
"Bore?! BORE?! SOME OF US HAVE RESPONSIBILITIES!"  
"Yeah, and they have nothing to do with me."

"I CANT BELIEVE YOU RIGHT NOW! YOU'RE STARTING TO ACT LIKE WILBUR WHEN HE BLEW UP MANBURG!"  
"SO WHAT?" He threw his arms up, "AT LEAST WILBUR WAS A COMPETENT LEADER, UNLIKE YOU!"

Yet another silence, although this time it was prolonged even more as both boys glared at eachother, angry and fuming with loathing. No words were exchanged as Tubbo turned around, back facing Tommy as he could no longer keep staring at the other. His confidence had been chipped away, and they both knew that Tommy's comment held more weight than both of them liked to hope it would have. It was the final straw. 

"Tommyinnit, as President I decree that from today-"  
Tommy's face turned pale  
"Wait, wait Tubbo, no, you don't have to do this-"  
"-you shall be exiled from L'manburg. If you step on sight, you'll be executed for treason against the town."

"Tubbo, no, please, my friend-"

"It's for the best Tommy. I'm sorry. I'll give you an hour to pack your things as I tell the cabinet. You best not waste your time."  
He could hear Tommy stifle a sob as he quickly darted from Tubbo's house, slamming the door behind him.

The heat from the fire of the courthouse was unbearable, exiling Tommy was unbearable. But it served as a reminder of an age of bloodshed no one wanted to return to.

Never again.

A single tear trickled down his face.


	8. Unnatural

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘Tommy gets exiled and, Ghostbur, keeping his promise, goes to find him.’

He awoke with a start, a chill settling within his bones and resting at the core of his soul. His head felt foggy, as if he was riddled with cold, dew ridden November mornings and, as per normal, he couldn't remember why. This was a fairly normal occurrence for him, being a ghost and all that. The coldness was one he had come accustomed to that normally came with awakening from the dark void his spirit resided in whilst sleeping and conserving energy. The foggy head was a sign of his fateful companion, amnesia. Something had happened yesterday and it was something he clearly didn't want to remember.

But that wasn't the most important thing on his mind today, as he stretched his non-existent bones and ran a hand through his fringe. There was something far more important than his invisibility potions that he had put on halt in their yellow brewing stands, silent and stationary.

Today was the day Tommy could get exiled.

It was a surprise that he remembered such a morose subject, the conversation was tainted with fear and soaked in worry from what he could recall, yet a glimmer of warmth seemed to spark from the interaction between him and Tommy. 

He had been asked to look after Tommy if everything went south. He promised with his soul to help Tommy as much as possible. 

He had promised that, if the worst were to come true, he would pretend to be like when he was alive

and build a new nation with Tommy, one away from the struggles and stresses that L'manburg could occasionally bring. Unfortunately for him, he had overslept the big announcement. Keeping himself corporal all that time the previous day had taken its toll on him and resulted in a longer time to awaken.

He rushed out of his home, hoping that maybe he wasn't too late or that Tommy hadn't been exiled and everything could go back to the way it was.

But then the sight greeted him.

Dream stood in the middle of the courtyard, standing triumphant with menace radiating from behind that dull, dead mask of his. He held a netherite sword in one strong grip, painted with crimson blood as it glinted in the sickeningly bright sun. 

That wasn't good.

Changing his course in direction, he ran towards Tubbo's home, dread starting to settle within him. He didn't think he had ever felt like that before - or at least he didn't remember that he had ever felt like that. 

Tubbo stood, looking through a window overlooking L'manburg. He had his hands behind his back, but it was easy to tell he was trying to grip them so hard to stop the trembles that possessed his body. 

"Tubbo, where's Tommy? I didn't miss anything did I?"  
There was a sniffle and a thickness in Tubbo's voice. He didn't turn to address Wilbur at all as he spoke.  
"Dream exiled him."  
"Do you know where he went?"  
"Ran to the forest. Probably to Pogtopia."

"Pogtopia?"  
"The ravine."  
"Thank you."

With that information, Wilbur bolted off. He didn't want Tommy feeling sad or alone or scared, he had promised. He had to keep that promise. For Tommy. 

The ghost made a quick detour back to his home. A while back, Quackity had given him his old guitar. He hadn't touched it, it would take up a lot of energy to be able to manipulate it and, even then, he wasn't sure that he'd even be able to remember how to play. 

But Alivebur used to play it and it could serve some comfort. Tommy always used to like his songs.

The sun was starting to tuck itself into its grave in the horizon, casting the sky in a dismal purple colour. It looked like Winter. He wondered if the temperature was freezing to match, and the thought made his search for Tommy more urgent.

It was by miracle he found him. 

The other hadn't gotten far, Wilbur could see the hem of a familiar red sleeve leaning against the tree, it's bitter bark hiding him from sight. Knowing he was there filled him with a sense of relief. The dread that had built up faded away.

"Tommy! There you are. I brought my guitar. I.... I remember that you like songs and I know I used to play songs. And... Considering what's just happened, I figured you could use some comfort!"

He smiled, mustering the energy to hold the guitar properly as he rounded the tree to greet the other.

His heart stopped.

Tommy was laying against the tree, a stab wound impaled through his chest, tears rolling down his pale face as blood stained his perfect white shirt. It was like a breach in nature, watching laboured puffs of breath leave his body.

His hands were sprawled out, one on the floor limply, occasionally twitching, the other tentatively gripping his shirt beside where the fatal wound had been made.

Frozen eyes looked up to him. Frozen with pain. Frozen with fear. Frozen with misery.

Wilbur clutched his own shirt, the ghost of a sword going through his chest as he lost all ability to think in a cohesive and orderly manner. 

"W-Will.... I..... I'm sorry"  
Tommy burst out into more exhausted sobs.  
"How.... Why......?" A familiar feeling fleeted through him briefly. Pain. Hatred. Confusion. Fear.

"Wilbur... Please. Please."  
He snapped into action, like some sort of mechanism had been tripped off in his head.   
"I can. I can go get help! You just need to hold on Tommy!" He started to pace, looking towards L'manburg, into the forest where the ravine would be and then Tommy, unsure of what action he should take.

Tommy chose for him.

"Wilbur please..... Can... Can you sing the anthem for me?"  
Tears threatened to spill out of his eyes. Why was this happening? How was this happening? Everything was supposed to be ok! It had to be ok!

Through his panic, he unknowingly complied. He sat down opposite Tommy, holding the guitar in his hands as if it controlled life or death. A ghost of a smile crossed Tommy's face as he closed his eyes.

Despite the amnesia, he remembered how to play well enough. It was like unlocking a second language he hadn't spoke in years. 

His voice was shaky. He missed chords through his tears. He didn't know ghosts could cry. 

Tommy didn't move throughout the whole song.

He didn't move when it ended.

He didn't move when Wilbur set his guitar aside and sat next to his younger brother, his vice president, his friend.

He didn't move when Wilbur moved his body into his arms. Or when the tears turned into fall blown waterfalls of anguish, screaming and begging the sky to reverse this awful deed. Please, not him, god anyone but him.

And the worst part of it all?

He feared he would forget it by tomorrow


	9. Losing it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I think I'm going insane. I just saw Tubbo”

He could no longer count the days that marked his further imprisonment from a distant land he used to call home. Time didn't have meaning anymore, hours blurred into days and those days bled into months. 

What was the point in keeping time anymore if he was never going back anyway? It wasn't important.

What once was a reluctant home had become a base of sanctuary and safety from the cold, bitter winds that swept in from the north - that always tempted to numb his senses. Luckily for him, the walls of Logstedshire and the flames from the campfire managed to drive it away and encase him in an embrace of protection.

Tommy sat by where he did most days, at the beach. The sand felt warm underneath his fingertips and, often, threading his hands through its grains helped to ground him and feel some control in the turbulent storm. The sea commanded calming sounds, with the occasional break in its surface from a joyful dolphin, it's optimism an appreciated companion.

Yet it was a painful reminder.

The dolphin was free. He wasn't.

He was alone on this starry night, the sky a stage for a spectacle of bright fires and the pearly moon, no clouds in sight to disrupt the amiable view. The breeze wasn't too cold, or if it was, he could no longer tell. 

The day had been tiring. He had spent it building, expanding and mining - like he did most days. It was a comfort to keep his mind distracted and it helped to exhaust him for times like this, when he could just relax. Allow the cruel world around him to melt away as he slipped into a feeling of non-existence.

Footsteps snapped him out of his thoughts. His eyes shot open and he froze, waiting for something else to reaffirm that he was not alone here at this current moment. He clenched his fists, straining to hear any signs of life - he swore he even held his breath in order to hear better.

There was a ring of a bell from within Logstedshire. 

Tommy got up, tearing his eyes away from the serene ocean and looking towards the small village.

"Wilbur? I mean- ghostbur? Is that you?"

There was no response. In fact, the area went quiet.

Someone was here and they clearly didn't want to be known.

With concern on his mind and the worst gnawing away at him, he brandished his iron sword and walked on over to the little log camp. If anybody wanted to come out and escape, they would have to pass him to go through the portal - but not before he demanded why they were here. 

"Come out!" He threatened, "You're not Wilbur, so you have to be a visiter. Fundy? You aren't here to scam me are you? Dream?"

Again no response.

He stood at the entrance of Logstedshire, eyes piercing through his surroundings to try and spot the intruder. He was half tempted to set the place on fire to drive them out - the result seeming more and more like the stranger here was a threat rather than a friend - but he knew it would only make his life harder. Plus, Ghostbur had worked hard and - despite his alive counterpart's abhorrent nature - he appreciated the ghost's work. 

After an eternity of silence the intruder stepped out into the light, black suit crisp with business yet soft in the natural light of the campfire. In one hand was a torch, in the other a compass that mirrored Tommy's own.

Tubbo sheepishly smiled, guilt set deep in his features yet a hope and a longing in his eyes. 

"Hey Tommy."

Tommy froze, his grip on his sword loosening. 

"Sorry I didn't announce myself coming here, I was worried you didn't want to see me.... Or hated me. I can't blame you. You have every reason to never want to talk to me again."

No response, Tubbo looked to the floor and swallowed. 

"I want to be friends again Tommy. I miss you. L'manburg isn't the same without you. I've been begging Dream to let you have visitation rights and he just keeps changing his mind."

Tommy's grip on his sword tightened as his expression remained blank. For the past few weeks, a spectre had been haunting him. Staring at him from the confines of a forest, hiding in plain sight. He knew it was a sign.

It was a sign his mind was turning against him, going insane.

"So, I figured I would finally come to you. Properly. Face to face. And, maybe talk?"

He didn't want to go insane. Insanity meant being like Wilbur. The last thing he wanted was to become like Wilbur. 

Tommy had to get control back of his mind. He had to tie a leash around it to stop it from running away.

He took a step closer to Tubbo.

The other sensed that something was up, a nervous look falling upon him as he glanced from the sword to a blank canvas.   
"Uh... Tommy? Is this a bad time?"

Another step. Tubbo stepped back.  
"Tommy- Tommy what are you doing? Please-please put the sword down."

Closer.  
"Tommy it's me, Tubbo?"

No more.

Adrenaline burst in him and he pounced, lunging at the hallucination and swiping at it with a force built up by anger yet triumph. He was in control. 

"I'm not going insane,"  
He stabbed again.  
"I'm NOT going insane. IM in control."  
The hallucination fell to the ground, the noise around him felt suffocated by static in his ears.

"You aren't Tubbo! Tubbo HATES me!"  
Another gash  
"I AM NOT GOING INSANE!"

He panted, the static in his ears had stopped. He felt lighter. He felt free. 

He smiled to himself in triumph. He was in control of himself. He wasn't going to become like Wilbur. 

Tommy wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

He paused.

The taste of blood filled his mouth.

His eyes widened and he looked at his clothes, his sword, the floor around him.

Tubbo lay dead in front of him, brutally torn apart. His blood was everywhere, staining Tommy's hands.

His breath turned cold as he fell to his knees, looking from his friend's body to his blood-stained hands.

"I'm not going insane"  
"I'm not going insane"  
"I'm not....."


	10. Duality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I wasn't good enough to deserve a gravestone. Everyone hated me”

The day could only be described as tense.

Within L'manburg, people were uprooting their own lives and starting to leave, exhaustion and contempt settled within their core for the division and bloodshed the nation was tainted with. Others didn't know how to feel about living in an alliance with Dream, their villain. He had destroyed and murdered, manipulated and controlled. It was jarring for a dismissal to those acts to be issued by those in power.

The sky hadn't been the most optimistic in the morning. It had rained the previous night and it's only remains were a gloomy and brooding sky, stains of red upon the clouds from the yawning sun.

Ghostbur wasn't one to believe in myths or folk lore, but he remembered a familiar saying from Phil.

“Red Skies in morning, Shepard take warning”

And it had only gotten worse from there. He visited Logstedshire, like he always did. Tommy needed him and he had promised to look after him. They still had yet to grow their nation, but he was trying his best to be what the young boy wanted and to make him happy. The compass had managed to crack a little smile, before the reminder of the dread of the world made its way back home within Tommy's head. It was small, but it was something, and he was determined to bring Tommy back to his former self. He WAS going back home. He just needed optimism.

Today was the worst Ghostbur had ever seen him.

The younger was barely his talkative self, preferring to distract himself with work and keep quiet. He alternated between a hopeless tone and, when in response to Ghostbur specifically, a more snappy one. 

He was losing Tommy.  
He feared he was breaking his promise.  
Why was this even happening?

When Tommy had finally settled down for the day to rest, Ghostbur returned back to L'manburg. He was looking forward to speaking to Tubbo and seeing if he could spend anymore time with his son. It had been a while since they talked. 

Noise smothered the air as he entered the brightly lit nation, pausing to see Tubbo arguing with Fundy. 

The conflict made him feel uneasy and he knew it would have been better to just float off and get back to working on invisibility potions.

But with the failure to cheer up Tommy, he needed to know if he could at least fix something today. Help someone today.

It was a bad decision.

“This is your fault!”  
“You made the decision with me! You're part of my cabinet!”  
“You took the decision out of my hands! And now you're provoking a war against Techno?”  
“It's propaganda, not a death threat.”  
“Tubbo, I no longer want anything to do with L'manburg.”  
“You can't just leave! You're.... You're part of my cabinet....”  
“Of course, out of anyone Wilbur could have chosen. It was you. Just another bad decision to add to the series he made.”  
“Hey! I'm trying my best ok?”

“It doesn't feel like it and I don't want to stick around when it goes back up in flames again.”  
“It won't go back up in flames again.”  
“With the way you are going Tubbo? It just might.”

Fundy had only spoken the truth about Wilbur. From what Ghostbur had heard, the guy was horrible, although he didn't like prying into too much of the details. He didn't want to remember nor be reminded of who he was. He wanted to move on with his life without the shackles of some ominous past looming over him. 

But it still.... Hurt.

It hurt to know he was regarded in that way.

Failure, villain, screw up. 

And suddenly, he didn't want to talk to anyone. He didn't think he could help anyway. The political issues of L'manburg were something he shouldn't meddle with, he would only probably make things worse. 

In fact, the more he thought, the more he realised that he had brewing stands to tend to. And thus, he silently slipped away to his home in the sewers.

There was some relief being in the safety of his own home. It felt like nothing bad externally could harm him. That, and he had everything that gave him comfort within its walls. His brewing stands, his bookshelves, his books. All of them were cherished items that brought a swell of relaxation to his heart. 

The memory of earlier was still on his mind. He tried to rattle it out by shaking his head and, when that didn't work, he started to gather ingredients for some potions. They didn't just serve as a ways and means of fun, they came with their own relaxing effects that soothed his worries.

"Trying to run away?"

He stopped dead, almost dropping the empty bottles from his hands. The voice was familiar, but he didn't recall letting anyone in. He didn't even hear the door open.

Turning around from his brewing stands, he looked to face his library room. A red glow was emitting from there, one that drowned him in fear. It felt dangerous. It felt like sparks of an explosion. He was dead yet, all of a sudden, he could feel the heat of a grinning fire surround him despite feeling a chill sink it's teeth into his body.

Ghostbur stayed rooted to the spot.  
"I'm not going away anytime soon"

Red skies at morning, Shepard take warning.

Taking a deep breath, he walked over to the room, descending the small step and looking around the place until his eyes landed on the source of the red light and the only figure in the room.

It was him.  
But.... It wasn't him at the same time.

Long, tattered beige coat. Unruly brown curls contained under a worn and smoky beanie. Eyes red, glinting with malice yet framed by tiredness.

It was Wilbur.

"How- what- why-" Ghostbur started to question, eyes wide as he ran a trembling hand through his own hair. Was he sick? Was this a nightmare? Could ghosts even dream?  
"Why are you trying to run from what we did?" Wilbur asked, folding his arms and tilting his head.  
"Not we, what you did" Ghostbur accused, taking a step back, "I'm ghostbur. I'm not you."  
"Your amnesia isn't going to protect you forever from the full extent of what happened."  
"You don't know that. I'll forget this by tomorrow."  
"But you're already starting to remember," Wilbur grinned, taking out a book from the nearest barrel. Ghostbur recognised it as the list he was asked to write down on what he remembered, "it's just that you choose to ignore it. You choose to block it out."  
"I don't like who you were."  
"You don't have a choice in that matter" the book was chucked back in, causing a wince from the ghost as it made a thud, "you're going to have to accept it one way or another. What happened to us is only a half painted story by those who disliked what had to be done. History is always written by the victor, and the winners decided that we were the villain."  
"YOU WERE A VILLAIN!" Ghostbur yelled, "you hurt people! You destroyed L'manburg! You sided with Dream!"

Wilbur didn't look impressed, instead he raised an eyebrow.  
"You'll understand why we did it soon enough." Ghostbur folded his arms  
"No, I don't want to understand."

He only received a maniacal cackle. Wilbur was cracked up laughing.  
"When are you going to understand? We never had a fucking choice!"  
"What....?"  
"We lost our nation, everyone betrayed us, everyone lied to us! Did we have a choice about what we wanted? No! We were constantly the fucking losers! We were constantly in pain and alone and left with nothing. Yet we were still told to get back on our feet and fight for something that no longer existed!"  
Ghostbur looked to the side of the room, eyes training on the patterns on the stone floor. He felt uncomfortable.   
"There was something to fight for-"  
"We were fighting for other people to have easy access to power"

"no that's not-"  
" They were using us. They used us to get power and control back despite all the hurt we endured. They didn't care. They didn't ask us why we wanted to destroy it all."  
" You didn't care when you destroyed their home".  
"What's going on now?" Wilbur asked, causing Ghostbur to pause. He clutched the sleeves of his jumper, refusing to look at the other.  
"Tubbo is going to kill Dream and Techno. He exiled Tommy. Fundy is leaving... I...."  
"History is repeating itself. If we had done better, maybe this hell hole would've been abandoned. None of this would have happened."  
"History is NOT repeating itself," the ghost cried out, clutching his head as if he was more desperately trying to convince himself than anyone else.   
"Oh it is. Someone is going to realise soon enough what the right thing to do is. Then what?"

"Are they still going to be the villain, Ghostbur?"

He let out a choked sob.


	11. Lava

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phantommy? Phantommy

It had been an interesting predicament.

As he cleaned the blood from his hands calmly, as if it was nothing but paint from an art project gone wrong, Dream looked into the mirror in front of him. He looked tired.

He had been hunting down Tommy for days on end. The younger was the only one left that could obstruct his clear path of control in the SMP. It would have been easier to have him on his side - finally have all his opposition under his thumb - but in true Tommy fashion, it hadn't exactly gone to plan.

He sighed, closing off the tap and drying his hands on a black towel, leaving the bathroom after turning off the light. The man yawned, scratching his head and deciding that rest was on his agenda.

There was a roaring fire on in his living room, the flames cheering in his presence as they swallowed more pieces of wood.

His green eyes narrowed as he stared at the sparks, glowing before fizzling out.

‘ _Tommy had been tracked down to the nether - one of the places he wasn't allowed in. Of course he would try resist him, even if it was a matter of life or death. It was insulting to know that the child_ _probably didn't think Dream had it in him to kill him. It sent a shot of loathing through his veins, reminding him of why he needed to control Tommy in the first place._

 _Speaking of, Tommy looked petrified as they stood on the cobblestone bridge above the gleaming lava. His_ _clothes were still in tatters and it seemed as if he had nothing on his person yet, after the scenario in Logstedshire with the hidden room, Dream couldn't be so sure._

_There was little to no life in Tommy's face as his body trembled, yet he stayed frozen to the spot as Dream advanced forward, gripping his sword and swinging it with his strides carelessly.  
"Dream," he spluttered, "Dream, I swear, I wasnt- I didnt- this isn't what-"  
" So you disobeyed me again Tommy? Even after I let you live. Gave you a jukebox. Promised to still visit you..." He sighed, lifting his sword and running his finger across its blade, watching it contain a dull shine from the light below them, "You really won't learn how to listen."  
"No! No Dream I will learn! I'm sorry!" Tommy begged, "I'll... I'll learn. I'll listen. This was just-"_

_"Shutup Tommy." Dream commanded, sending the blonde into fearful silence. The power over once a formidable enemy was exhilarating, "I'm done giving you second chances. I told you what would happen if you entered the nether. Promises are promises."_

_Tommy took a step back._

_"Dream, no. No please," Tears started to roll down his face as he took a step back, Dream himself taking menacing steps forward, "please I don't want to die."_

_"When will you understand?"_   
_He lunged, stabbing Tommy square in the chest before retracting his sword back, the other gasping to cling onto life as it left his body, only to stumble back to the edge of the bridge due to the force of the weapon. Before he fell, the older grabbed his shirt as the rest of him dangled over the edge. Dream smiled. Tommy looked in pain - he looked terrified._

_"You never had a choice."_   
_He let go._   
_Tommy fell.’_

Dream moved his stare away from the fire, rubbing his tired eyes and humming to himself. When did things ever really go to plan? He guessed that was the enjoyable chaos about it though. 

Moving towards his bedroom, he realised his home was heating up by an unbearable amount. He didn't put that much fuel in the fire did he? Maybe he would feel cooler once he was out of his armour.

Slipping off his armour, he placed it in the chest beside his bed, rubbing his aching shoulder blades. The comfort of a pillow and mattress was definitely something he craved. Sleep was catching up to him and he could run from it no longer.

Yet he just seemed to grow hotter, as if he was standing in the middle of a burning forest. He was finding it hard to breathe and sweat started to trickle from his forehead.

Groaning, Dream backtracked to the fire in the living room, filling a bucket of water to put it out before it broke his sleep ridden state into something more akin to lethargic discomfort. 

The coals sizzled as the icy water was dumped on it, the flame screaming and dying in an instant.

Yet it didn't help. The temperature was unbearable.

A gust of hot air behind him caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end.

Dream quickly turned around.

Lava dripped and clung to him, his eyes a dim red. The ends of his hair were singed as the smell of ash and smoke seemed to cling to him. 

Dream's eyes widened.

"You shouldn't be able to... The dead shouldn't be able to come back from the grave" he muttered in disbelief, trying to grasp for any weapon he had on him or nearby that could defend him. 

Tommy cocked his head to the side before grinning.  
"Why? Is it not going to plan?"


	12. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘Ghostbur watches the festival happen and he doesn't understand why it seems so familiar’.

There had never been a festival in L'manburg before, at least not one he remembered.

The sky was the perfect colour, despite the new year always harbouring that wintery chill, early spring had managed to barge in for a day or so just to steal the spotlight. There were only a few white clouds in the sky, drifting lazily against the bright blue backdrop as the sun shone down cheerfully over them all. Music drifted through the air, dancing and bringing joy to those participating as many played the games that had been built, ate food from wooden stalls or just seemed to stand around and talk, taking in the fresh air and the energy of the day. 

Ghostbur had been sitting by his balloon stand, watching as the colours of L'manburg nudged against eachother in the light breeze and filled the area with some colour. It was nice to see that the many stalls he had made in the main plaza could now be put to good use to entertain people and bring them together. It had also been nice to be able to participate in the first place. Tommy, Techno and Phil had seemed so stressed and unhappy as of recent, and so he was sure that this would help put whatever worries they had in their head to rest.

Techno and Tommy had told him that they would be a little late, something about preparing a little party gift. Phil was still technically under house arrest but Tubbo had made an exception that, for today, he could celebrate with everyone else. 

Phil kept reminding him to keep quiet about Techno and Tommy, apparently their presence was part of the gift. Ghostbur knew it would be nice for Tubbo to be able to see Tommy again after exile and thus kept quiet for the sake of this beautiful surprise for his friend.

A speech was starting soon. Tubbo, Quackity and Fundy were all stood at the podium talking amongst eachother in hushed voices. Some people had already taken their seats in front of it, whilst others, like Ghostbur and Phil, were just behind the seating area either by the lake or by the array of stalls. 

It was going to be a new chapter, a better chapter, he could feel it. The thought caused a smile to beam on his face to the point that it even combatted the cold for once. The same could not be said for Phil. Ghostbur, leaning over the desktop on his own balloon stall, gave a massive wave to Tubbo when the president glanced over the crowd. The younger merely gave a tired smile. Then said ghost turned to Phil, still in his robes from the Antarctic empire, sitting down beside him and staring at the ground with a furrowed brow yet pensive eyes.

"Phil, is everything ok?" Phil looked up, seemingly surprised that he had been caught out on an intense bout of thinking.  
"Yeah, yeah I'm fine Wilbur. Just wondering if Techno and Tommy are alright." He waved a hand dismissively.  
"They'll be fine! I remember sparring with Techno when we were little. He can defend himself from anything. I think Tommy will enjoy this festival. Tubbo is his best friend in the whole world. He hasn't seen him since the exile." Ghostbur didn't notice the blonde's face turn into one of concern and worry. Instead he merely turned his attention back to Tubbo, who was clearing his throat, tapping the mic and calling for people to make their way to the plaza.

"Phil! Phil come on! The speech is starting!" Philza wasn't looking to the podium, however, instead he was staring over by the old drug van, gave a curt nod before getting up from his seat.  
"Wilbur, we need to go," he said calmly, folding his arms. Ghostbur floated out from his balloon stand, expression innocent and confused with titled eyebrows.   
"But Tubbo hasn't even started his speech yet. The festival is only halfway."

"Son, I need you to trust me we have to go-"

"I thank you all today for coming to our great nation to celebrate in this festival. To celebrate friendship and peace. We've had trialling times but we've managed to get through them together." Tubbo's voice rang out across L'manburg, attracting Ghostbur's attention and causing him to float towards the seating area despite the desperate whispers of his father to leave. 

"Moving forward, we'll work towards maintaining the safety of our nation and keeping our agreements with Dream, who has made this time of prosperity and peace possible. And whilst the journey ahead may seem long, I can assure you that one day we'll look upon these times and smile at the fact that we stuck together through it all."

The crowd erupted into applause. As Tubbo gave a relieved sigh and took a step back.

Then everything exploded.  
"GHOSTBUR!"

He was unaffected by the flames, watching with wide eyes as rubble from the podiums and surrounding houses flew everywhere, sparks and fire trailing after their pieces like shooting stars. A bell rung in his ears, drowning out the screams of panic and terror from those in the stands, some fleeing whilst those closest to the podiums were heavily injured and needed assistance. Smoke billowed into the sky, kindling floating in the polluted air like glitter. 

There was faint laughter in the breeze. He couldn't tell who it belonged to.

"GHOSTBUR? WILL?"

Something ignited in him. Something cold. Something familiar as he stared upon this sight of bloodshed, corruption and decay. 

He looked down at himself, taking in his sooty appearance. He remembered those black fingerless gloves now on his hands. He remembered the beige tatty coat he had spent hours sewing patches passionately into. 

He remembered why he had a gaping hole in his chest, blood spilling out. 

He could smell fire.

"Wilbur?"

Wilbur turned around, eyes wide. There was fear but it wasn't because he didn't know what was going on.

His voice trembled, barely audible above the noises of destruction.

He remembered it all.

"Phil?"


End file.
